


(Not) Coming Out of the Closet

by TurtleTotem



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [22]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Mansion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 07:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleTotem/pseuds/TurtleTotem
Summary: “Charles, do you mean to tell me it took you less than a full minute to get lost in your own house?”(On Tumblrhere.)





	(Not) Coming Out of the Closet

Charles remembered being frightened of storms when he was a child. The wind wailing around the many corners of the mansion would keep him up all night, shaking under the blankets. If Raven had been afraid, he could have distracted himself comforting her—but Raven always slept like a stone, utterly unmoved by nature’s fury. Even after Charles outgrew the unreasoning fear, storms kept him awake, feeling endlessly and irrationally alone.

Tonight was entirely different. The mansion was so full of light and noise and hubbub that hardly anyone seemed to notice the storm, however much it clashed and clattered against the windows. They had all gathered in the den after dinner, Sean hogging the bowl of popcorn while Hank and Alex fought over the television. Moira and Raven were deep into some kind of conversation about gun safety, of all things. Everyone was happy, everyone was having fun. It was like an entirely different house, and Charles’s chest felt full to bursting.

And yet he kept finding himself at the window, looking uneasily out at the storm.

“Is something wrong, Charles?” Erik asked the third or fourth time he did it. Hank and Alex had finally settled on some horror movie marathon CBS was airing, and everyone was settling onto the couch, squabbling over popcorn. There might have been room for Erik, but it was difficult for Charles to imagine him elbowing his way into the warm, laughing mob. Erik was too still and dark and quiet for that, had too many sharp angles.

“No, nothing wrong,” Charles said, after just a beat too long, because looking at Erik tended to distract him. “Just… worrying about the storm, I guess.”

“Worrying? Why?”

“Are you on about the roofs again, Charles?” Raven called teasingly.

“The roofs, yes,” Charles said, glad of the excuse. “There’s this place on the fourth floor in the east wing that’s leaked for years; no matter how many times we get it repaired, somehow it comes through again.”

Erik scowled. “Shoddy construction.”

“Doubtless. But I’d better check it out, just in case.”

“I’ll come along,” Erik said. “If it is leaking, I can probably do some kind of emergency repair.”

“Capital idea,” Charles said, trying not to sound as eager as he felt. “You lot carry on, then. We’ll be back.”

Raven waved at them over her shoulder; the others were already too enraptured by the movie to notice when Charles and Erik slipped out into the corridor.

It was something of a walk to the east wing, and Charles found himself filling it with chatter that even he recognized as inane—bits of history about the house, pointless childhood stories, hearty observations about how well the children (he couldn’t seem to stop calling them that) were settling in. Erik remained silent, but Charles knew he was paying attention, far more of it than the conversation warranted. He could feel that attention focused on him like light through a magnifying glass, and he shouldn’t, he  _shouldn’t_  find it so flattering how often Erik did that, to him and only him, shouldn’t feel it going straight to his head and leaving him half-drunk with the desire to—

Charles shut down that train of thought ruthlessly. If there were  _any_  time or place appropriate for such things, this at least wasn’t it.

They went up the east wing staircase, Charles leading the way, which oddly seemed to intensify the focused attention Erik was radiating. The three flights of stairs left Charles a little more out of breath than he would have liked; he suspected his cheeks had gone pink. And that they went pinker, when he glanced sideways at Erik just in time to catch him staring.

_Excellent. Now he thinks I’m some sickly little lamb that ought to be carried in a basket._ He tried to shake off the embarrassment as they passed into the old guest bedroom with the recurring leak, flipping on lights as they went. This area of the house was still shrouded in dust cloths, the air stale and still. “The spot that usually leaks is up there. Looks all right from here, at least—”

Without the slightest warning or fanfare, the lights went out.

Charles froze in surprise; Erik reacted more violently, spinning toward the window with a gun in his hand—where had he gotten  _that—_ as if the sudden darkness might be an attack. Charles saw him for the briefest of moments, outlined in lightning; he had positioned himself between Charles and whatever threat the window might have posed.

After a sheepish moment, Erik relaxed and put away the gun, muttering under his breath.

“I suppose this was all but inevitable, really,“ Charles said, his voice echoing oddly in the dark room. "I can’t believe neither of us thought to bring a torch.”

“Inevitable?”

“Oh, yes, power outages during storms are quite the usual thing out in the rural areas. There’s no telling how long it will be before it’s restored, so we have the enviable task of finding our way back to the others in the dark. Raven will be going for the candles as we speak.”

Erik stepped closer to him as he spoke, finally reaching out with one uncertain hand to fumble at Charles’s shoulder. Of course; with his telepathy, Charles retained a very strong sense of where people were located even without visual cues, but Erik lacked that advantage. Reassuringly, he touched Erik’s hand, a silent  _Yes, you found me, here I am._ The hand settled more confidently onto Charles’s shoulder, and stayed there.

“I just hope I remember this wing well enough to guide us back,” Charles said aloud. “I know the door was behind us…”

A flash of lightning showed the far wall just well enough for Charles to set off in the right direction, though it faded long before he reached the door. Stepping through it, he had just a moment to frown at the peculiar quality of the darkness, the stifled smell of the air, before he caught on.

“Oh!”

“What?” Erik, already closing the door behind them, elbowed past Charles and pushed him aside—and into a rack of long-forgotten clothing, which rattled and dropped a few of its burdens as Charles fought free of it. Erik was swearing in German now, trying to pull Charles to his feet and succeeding only in knocking him down again. The pipes in the walls were groaning as Erik’s confusion grew. Charles banged his elbow on something, his knee on something else, and could hear Erik doing likewise as he crashed around in alarm.

“It’s a closet, Erik, I led us into the closet,” Charles said, laughing through the words and finally hauling himself to his feet with a grip on Erik’s arm.

_“Oh,”_ Erik said, their inexplicable surroundings suddenly making sense—and then, to Charles’s surprise, he started laughing, too. “Charles, do you mean to tell me it took you less than a full minute to get lost in your own house?”

“I’m hardly lost! One wrong turn!”

“Which way is out?” Erik fumbled along the wall of the closet beside them, knocking more clothes down.

“Beats me,” Charles said helplessly, still giggling and pressed against the wall, with Erik clutching a handful of his shirt.

A distinctive  _clink_  sounded overhead.

“Erik, did you just pull the chain for the lightbulb? During a power outage?”

“It was worth a shot.”

“No, it wasn’t! The electricity’s out!” Charles was laughing hard enough that he thought he might start to wheeze, and the sulky note in Erik’s voice only made it worse.

“At this rate we’ll still be trapped in here when it comes back, and then we’ll have the light on.”

“That’s my Erik, always thinking ahead.”

Erik stilled, and Charles bit his tongue.  _My_ Erik; that wasn’t a normal way to refer to someone, that was a very stupid thing for him to say and—

—And Erik had stopped fumbling around in the dark. Instead he was leaning closer over Charles, releasing the hold on his shirt only to smooth his hand over Charles’s side, a hesitant stroking motion that Charles could ignore… if he chose to.

“I always have to think ahead,” Erik said, his voice a low and thoughtful thing in the darkness, only inches away. “Every minute. It’s what’s kept me alive. Always doing the smart thing. Sometimes… I don’t want to. Sometimes I want to just…” He trailed away, still touching Charles’s side, thumb brushing back and forth.

“Just what?” The words came out a little hoarse.

Erik let out a breath. “Charles,” he said, the name a slow and savored sound, “You… you make me want to… stop doing the smart thing. Just for once.”

“Then do it,” Charles whispered, feeling his way to Erik’s face and tracing his cheekbone, his jaw, his lips—

The first kiss was a fumbling mess, landing more on Charles’s chin than his mouth, but they corrected course swiftly and  _oh_ , this was different than Charles had ever thought, slow and intimate in the safe darkness. For once the thunder growling through the walls did not frighten him at all.

When the power came abruptly on again, they both flinched, unwelcome light pouring down from the single bulb in the closet.

Blinking and feeling as if a spell had broken, Charles looked at Erik, and found Erik looking at him. They stared, each waiting for the other to speak—Erik, to his surprise, just as uncertain and flustered as he was himself.

“The kids are fine,” Charles murmured after a moment, one fingertip brushing his temple. “They found candles and they’re starting a fire in the grate, in case the lights go out again. Making an adventure of it.”

“They don’t need us, then.”

“No, I think they’ve quite forgotten us, for the moment.”

“Good,” Erik said, and flashed a wicked smile that Charles eagerly returned, pulling him closer as Erik turned off the light with a wave of his hand.


End file.
